Peking & The Tulip Affair (11 page)

Kris sat up when she saw the tall, bronzed giant approaching with two Stingers. She took off her cap and ran her ringers through her blonde tresses. She studied the man in the quilted robe, and her thoughts went back to last night when she had spent those heavenly hours in his arms. She had never before been so thrilled by a man's lovemaking.

The man sank down onto his haunches and gave her one of the Stingers. "I saw you dive. I'm impressed."

"I'm glad I impress you," she said, putting extra warmth in her voice. "You did a very good job of impressing
me —
last night."

"It took me two solid days to talk you into bed," he reminded her with a crooked grin on his tanned face.

"I'm sorry now I waited so long»

The bantering went on for a while till a bellboy interrupted them. "There's a call for you, Mr. Carter. You can take it in the bar."

Nick excused himself, followed the boy into the bar, and picked up the receiver.

"How's the vacation coming along?"

Nick Carter recognized Hawk's familiar voice. "Something tells me this vacation is coming to an abrupt end."

"Can't be helped. Try to be back by this evening. I'll be staying late."

"Will do." Nick hung up and walked back to the swimming-pool area. Kris had moved to a beach chair, her long legs stretched out, twin columns of perfection.

"You've got beautiful legs," Nick said. "I wish I could stay and admire them forever but I'll be leaving soon."

Kris reached out to touch his arm. "Isn't there anything that will induce you to stay?"

Nick shook his head gently. "I'm may be back."

"And I may not be here."

Nick hated goodbyes. He always felt awkward. He proposed they have a last drink together, and Kris agreed.

She watched him walk away to the tap room. She knew it would be a long time before she found someone like him — if ever.

Hawk looked tired, more tired than usual. He motioned Nick to the chair in front of his desk and the tall, broad-shouldered man sat down. Hawk got right to the point. "About a month ago I sent out three agents for the express purpose of filtering information back about ChiCom movements in the Far East Norwich in Singapore, Bennet in Hanoi, and Harrison in Bangkok. This morning Harold Rustoff of CIA paid me a visit with some startling news. All the info I got, and which I passed on to Rustoff, has been false."

Nick's face and voice were emotionless. "You think they were caught?"

Hawk shrugged. "I don't think they even got started."

"Then they were sold out," Nick said.

"And enemy agents took their places." Hawk toyed with a yellow pencil. "Has to be. No other explanation. They didn't sell out and go over to the other side. Not all three at the same time. Perhaps one, maybe, but all three? Nope." Hawk looked at Nick with grim eyes. "They went through the Hong Kong contact."

"Tulip." Nick lit a gold-tipped cigarette. "I can't see Tulip selling out, either."

"You and Tulip are rather close."

Nick didn't answer.

"All right," Hawk said. "It's your baby. Go to Bangkok and find out what you can. If Tulip turned double…" Hawk left it unsaid.

"What about Singapore and Hanoi?"

"You just worry about Bangkok. I'm more interested in the traitor. I'll give odds it's Tulip."

Nick got to his feet. Hawk had to be right about Tulip. Everything pointed to Tulip. Three AXE agents, and Tulip had thrown them to the wolves. But Nick wanted to be sure. He liked Tulip. He and Tulip were friends.

"I want to give Tulip every chance," Nick said.

Hawk nodded his head. "I understand. That's why I'm sending you to Bangkok first."

The Thai people originated in Southeast China, where they founded the independent Kingdom of Nanchao in 650 a.d. In 1243 they were driven out by the armies of Kublai Khan and moved south to what is known today as Thailand.

Nick's plane landed at Don Muang Airport late in the afternoon. He showed his passport, his visa, and his International Certificate of Health, and passed through.

Nick had his stiletto in its sheath strapped around his arm, and his Luger was in the false bottom of his suitcase.

A taxi took him to the Royal Hotel on Rajadamnern Avenue. He registered, and a bellboy, carrying his suitcase, led the way to his room on the third floor. He tipped the boy 100 satangs and closed the door after him.

Nick took the Luger out of the false bottom of his suitcase, put it under his pillow, took off his shoes, and sprawled out on the bed. When it was dark he woke and went into the bathroom, where he undressed and showered. He put on fresh underwear, fresh socks, and the suit he had worn. With his stiletto Hugo and Luger Wilhelmina for company, he went out.

Nick didn't like typical Thai food because it was highly spiced. He found an Italian restaurant and ate. He drank a glass of sherry, paid the bill, and continued on his way.

The man who had taken Harrison's place had to be at the Metropole. He would have to stay there to receive Hawk's communications.

Nick walked up the seven flights, made his way to the right room, used the lockpicker's special, drew out Hugo, and slipped inside.

The rooms were dark.

He made sure no one was home before he turned on the lights. He searched through everything. He found a Ruger nine-shot automatic, a gun Harrison favored. But there were cold cigar butts in trays, and Harrison didn't smoke cigars. The clothes weren't Harrison's. He found a stainless-steel watch of Russian make in a bureau drawer.

Nick turned out the lights, sank into a club chair and waited. He didn't smoke a cigarette, even though he wanted one. He was like a statue, sitting in the club chair, hardly a muscle moving.

Every so often he would look at the luminous dial of his watch. Then he stopped doing that.

The sound of metal against metal reached him. He stiffened slightly, then forced himself to relax. The key turned the lock, the door opened, the lights came on, and the door closed.

Nick came out of the chair in a half turn, the Luger in his hand. The man was slightly bald, thin, wearing a pin-stripe suit. He was over forty. He seemed stunned at first at sight of Nick, and then he smiled. "You… uh… have made a mistake, my friend." He spoke English with an East European accent. "I am not rich. You may search…"

"Are you Mr. Harrison?" Nick asked softly.

"Harrison?" The man's eyes darted from Nick's face to Wilhelmina and back to Nick's face. "Mr. Harrison is away. On business. He will be back shortly. I will give him your message."

Nick motioned with the Luger. "Into the bedroom."

"If I scream…"

"You won't," Nick said. "I'll kill you, and you know it."

The man licked his lower lip. He looked from Nick to the door as if debating his chances. He knew his chances to get away were no good. He went into the bedroom, Nick behind him.

Nick told the man to sit on the bed.

The man sat. There was fear etched on his face. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Tie you up like a Christmas package."

Fear made his voice strained. "You're going to torture me. I–I can't stand torture. I can't tell you anything. I don't know anything. You have to believe me."

"Sure. Now lie back."

"No." The man opened his mouth to scream and Nick slammed the gun barrel against the man's head.

When the man regained consciousness, he was tied and gagged. Fear made his eyes round as an owl's. His shirt and undershirt had been ripped down to his belt, exposing his thin, naked chest.

Ruthlessly, Nick used Hugo till there was a red bloody pattern of crisscrossing lines on the man's chest. He never went deep, just deep enough to draw blood and inflict pain.

"I'm going to take off your gag," Nick said. "If you yell, I'll cut your throat."

Weakly, the man nodded his head.

Nick removed the gag.

"A doctor," the man whispered. "Get me a doctor."

"Sure," Nick said, "but not right now. You'll answer my questions first. If I suspect you're lying, you won't need a doctor. Understand?"

"Yes. Please, can I have water?"

"No. Now listen." Nick sat on the bed. "I want to know about Mark Harrison."

"He-is dead."

"What happened?"

"Rudy killed him. Poison."

"Rudy?"

"Rudy Carpenter."

"Who is he?"

"Albanian, I think He works for the Chinese. The Reds."

"What happened to Harrison's body?"

"In the river. Rudy's Japanese man, Shigeta, disposed of the body. Please. I need a doctor."

"Where do I find Rudy?"

The man told Nick and then pleaded again for a doctor.

"How did Rudy know about Harrison?" Nick asked.

"I… I don't know."

"That's a lie," Nick said harshly. He placed the steel point of the stiletto against the man's neck. "Haven't you had enough?"

"We got to one of your men. Tulip. In Hong Kong."

"What happened to our men in Hanoi and Singapore?" It was a rhetorical question. Nick already knew the answer.

"Same thing."

Nick stood up, his eyes cold. He used Hugo again. Quickly. One quick thrust, and there was a gurgle and a tiny fountain of blood.

Nick wiped Hugo clean and put him back in the sheath.

He washed his hands in the bathroom and left.

It was somewhere between midnight and one. A full yellow moon decorated the night sky with a thousand stars as ornaments.

Nick circled the house, looking for some sign of life. There wasn't a light to be seen. He approached the house from the back, crossed over the grass apron, and found the back door.

He used the lockpicker's special, opened the door slowly, silently, tiptoed inside. He closed the door behind him, stood and waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. Then he started to prowl.

He opened a door and walked in. He heard noise under his feet. He was walking on crumpled-up newspaper.

The moonlight on the bed showed the rising figure. Nick leaped, Hugo ready, upon the bed. The stiletto flashed in the silver moonlight and there was an anguished cry. Nick slid off the bed, searched for the light switch, and flicked it. He discovered the body on the bed to be Japanese.

"Shigeta. Shigeta."

Nick's back was rigid as plaster. He heard the footsteps approaching. He flicked off the lights and waited.

The door opened and a bulky figure crystalrzed in the doorway. «Shigetal» The lights came on. The burly man stood there, his eyes on Nick.

Nick had made a mistake. Perhaps fatal. He had Hugo ready, but the burly man, dressed in white cotton pajamas, had a snub-nosed revolver in his hand.

"You will please drop that knife," Rudy Carpenter said.

Nick let Hugo drop. He elevated his hands.

Rudy Carpenter glanced at the blood-stained figure on the bed. He stepped to one side. "You will please move. Into the other room."

Nick walked into the front room.

"Now stand perfectly still."

The burly man stood behind Nick and used his left hand to search the intruder. He found the Luger. "Now you may sit"

Nick sat in the club chair.

"You killed my servant," Rudy Carpenter said. "You are not an ordinary burglar, are you? Perhaps not even a burglar. No, I think not. Who are you?"

"Do you know how many people ask me that question?" Nick said. "Millions of people. They even stop me on the street and say 'Who are you? I've stopped wondering why they ask me. I suppose there must be a reason. Now I have a stock answer. None of your damn business. I know I'm being ill-mannered but I can't help it."

"It doesn't matter," the burly man said. "It's obvious you came here to kill me. As you Americans say, the cover is blown. But how did you find me?"

"Does it matter?"

Rudy Carpenter was thoughtful for a minute. "Of course. Capjuhn. The man who took Harrison's place. You got to him. Is he dead?"

"Funny you should ask that He told me he didn't want to die alone, so I promised him he would have company."

"You take your situation very lightly, my friend." Carpenter backed off to a table on which stood two bottles and several tall glasses. He picked up a bottle, tilted it, and an amber-colored liquid poured into a glass. He picked up the glass and brought it over to Nick. "I offer you a last drink. I harbor no grudge."

Nick took it. "Aren't you joining me?"

Without waiting for an answer, Nick flung the contents of the glass into Carpenter's face. His left hand closed over the gun wrist as Carpenter fired. Nick bounced out of the chair, hooked his right leg around the burly man's left leg, and pushed.

They fell heavily to the floor. Carpenter was still blinded by the whisky. Instinct made him fight back with the ferociousness of a trapped rat. He jabbed repeatedly at the back of Nick's neck with his left fist while trying to twist his gun wrist from Nick's steel-like fingers.

Nick drove his knee deep in Carpenter's groin and the man bellowed with pain. Nick shifted his body slightly so that his face was over the gun wrist He bit Carpenter's wrist, and the gun fell from the man's hand. "Rather unorthodox, I admit," Nick grunted, gathering up the snub-nosed revolver. He swung at Carpenter's head twice, and the man went limp.

Nick got to his feet, picked up the bottle of amber liquid, held it to his nose. There was a faint odor of burnt almonds, mixed with the fumes of whisky. Cyanide of potassium.

Nick knelt by Carpenter's side. With one hand he lifted the man's head; with the other he forced the neck of the bottle into the man's mouth. Carpenter sputtered and his eyes opened. He saw the bottle in Nick's hand and horror made his eyes round.